Kyrgyzstan > On horseback through the valley

Last night I wasn’t cold, even though the temperature dropped to around five degrees. I lay comfortably wrapped in the blankets. Outside, the sun is already shining brightly. I wash at a simple water point. By pressing the pin at the bottom of the bucket upward, water comes out. I look out over the vast valley. In the very distance, I can see a small village.

Kyrgyzstan - On horseback through the Kyrgyz highlands

It’s also clear enough to see the blue waters of Lake Issyk Kul. Behind me, fresh snow covers the mountains. The rain from last night has turned to snow less than a hundred meters above me. Men are busy setting up yesterday’s yurt again. Everything has been taken apart so it can be properly assembled in daylight. I’m going on a horseback ride through the valley. Amer comes up with my horse. Fortunately, the horse isn’t too big. In one movement, I’m in the saddle. The moment I touch the animal, he responds and begins to walk. I ride through the grasslands. Along the way, I see several flocks of sheep, groups of horses, and cows. On the way back, I try to pick up some speed. No matter how I move the horse, I can hardly get him out of his walking rhythm. Perhaps the uneven ground has something to do with it. He stumbles once over a molehill, falls to his knees, and before I realize it, he’s already back on his feet.

Kyrgyzstan - A Kyrgyz man with a traditional hat at sunset

I decide to return slowly to the camp. At the yurt, daily life continues as usual. Boys are chopping down a tree. Firewood is being split. Food is being prepared over a wood fire, and children are playing with a ball. The livestock is also being milked. I watch as the horses are milked. I’ve never seen this before. A few Kyrgyz are here specifically for a horse milk session. Although horse milk isn’t particularly healthy to drink, I try a small sip. I taste a warm, sweet liquid. In the afternoon, I go for a mountain walk. I cross the valley and climb up the other side. From the hills, I have a view over Lake Issyk Kul. Behind me, I can see the yurt camp. As the sun slowly sets, I take some photos. I photograph an older man wearing a traditional felt hat. His silhouette contrasts beautifully against the orange background. I show him the photo, and he gestures that he would like to have it. His granddaughter gives me her email address so I can send it to them. Back at the yurt, an elaborate meal is ready once again. It’s remarkable that this meal can be prepared over a wood fire. After the table is cleared, the tables are stacked, and the beds are rolled out again. I feel cold and go to bed. From my bed, I can hear singing around the campfire.